


do you see no ghosts in me at all

by apricae



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Lineage, Panic Attacks, Trauma, Uncle-Nephew Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:41:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25208644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apricae/pseuds/apricae
Summary: Rael Averross knows many things, but he has a particular expertise on loss — and on picking up the pieces afterwards.
Relationships: Rael Averross & Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 16
Kudos: 83





	do you see no ghosts in me at all

Jedi Temple, Coruscant

Five days after the invasion of Naboo

  
  


He missed the funeral. So much for lineage - Though after Pijal… 

It doesn’t matter. What’s he supposed to say, anyway? Sorry? _Sorry_ leaves foul tastes in grieving mouths, and no matter how much nonattachment is upheld, a master and a padawan aren’t supposed to be separated. Not like that.

Not suddenly. Not _brutally_. 

If Rael Averross knows anything, he knows this.

When he comes to see the kid, he’s not surprised to find an echo of his past self curled up in a too-big robe. Force, he’s still just a kid. Skinny and only slightly taller than he was at seventeen, all fluffy red hair and loose tunics.

The door clicks softly shut behind him. The kid doesn’t look up. 

Something about him - he ache of his silhouette, alone in the quiet, lights off - is too familiar. Rael’s throat goes tight suddenly, and he decides then and there that this- This is his mission now; Pull this miserable kid out of the dark.

Red hair. _Fanry_. Maybe this time he’ll get it right. 

He owes it to Qui-Gon to try.

“Hey, kid.” If the informality bothers him (it should, uptight little bastard he was last time they met) he doesn’t show it. Only looks up with empty blue eyes. Dry lips.

“Hello, master Averross.” 

Even his voice is empty. Flat. That charming rounded accent no longer vibrant. Rael aches and aches, standing there on the other side of the low table.

“How’re you holding up?”

Obi-Wan looks down at his hands in his lap and doesn’t say anything. It’s answer enough. 

Without another word, Rael heads for the kitchen. 

—

Qui-Gon’s favourite soup steams a pleasantly hearty aroma of vegetables as Rael sets the bowl down and crouches in front of the kid. Without thinking, he reaches out, ruffles soft hair. 

“Eat.”

Obi-Wan Kenobi is a good padawan - a _brilliant_ one, actually, Qui-Gon had told him - and does as he is told, eating slowly. A minute passes, then two more. Only the broth is left, and Rael hasn’t moved from his spot.

He knows what he’s looking for. A sudden blankness to Obi-Wan’s eyes as his brain begins to catch up to reality. The soft, hitching breath when it hits him again. Hands stilling. Breath pausing.

Rael takes the spoon from his numb fingers before he can drop it. 

Obi-Wan begins to cry. 

“Go on,” Rael says, calm. Rubs the kid’s bony shoulder, a firm touch to ground him in the present. He’s not ready to go back there yet. Not now.

Obi-Wan cries slowly and silently as he drinks the warm broth. Rael lets him. 

“Go on,” he says, putting every ounce of paternal love that he has into his voice as Obi-Wan shakes and shakes. “Get it out. That’s better.” Slow circles of his thumb right above the kid’s collarbone, tethering him gently to the present with his hand and his voice. “It’s all right, kid. You’re all right.”

—

Rael sits on the floor by the sleep couch, watching Obi-Wan’s fitful doze. It had taken a good amount of coaxing to get him to lay down at all; No way in Sith hells is he leaving the kid to his inevitable nightmares.

_Why are you doing this?_

The nagging voice at the back of his head sounds suspiciously like master Dooku, and Rael frowns. _Why,_ indeed.

“‘Cause I can’t just watch him drown in it,” he says to the air. “Can’t just let him…”

_Let him get swallowed up by pain. Leave him alone to be eaten from the inside._

_Can’t let myself fail someone again._

Obi-Wan stirs on the sleep couch. A soft whimper. Muscles tensing, sheets bunching up. When he jolts upright, heaving, a scream dying on his lips, Rael is there putting strong arms around those narrow, shaking shoulders. 

“Hey. Hey. _Shh_.”

Obi-Wan, drenched in sweat and gasping for air, turns his face into Rael’s shoulder and sobs.

“I didn’t- I- It’s-”

“Hey. Shh. I’ve got you.”

Deep, shuddering breaths. He’s trembling, like a frightened bird, like a child. Helpless. Rael rubs his back and inhales slowly, pulling Obi-Wan into the rhythm of his breath, easing him from the panic. Slowly. Slowly. 

It takes too long for him to understand what it is the kid is mumbling into his shoulder over and over again. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m- I’m so sorry-”

Rael feels his heart twist and clench and sink cold into his gut. _Oh no._

He pulls back, puts his hands tight on Obi-Wan’s forearms and seeks that red-rimmed blue gaze with his own. The anguish and guilt he finds there nearly tears him apart.

_Why are you doing this?_

_‘Cause I can’t let him become me._

“Listen to me, kid. _Listen_.” He almost shakes him, wants to shake him, but doesn’t.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

Obi-Wan looks away, an angry frown forming at his pale brow. Denial, then. Denial and pain and no way to come to terms with the violence of his loss. Rael wants to scream. Wants to cry.

“It wasn’t your fault. Look at me. _Hey_. Look at me. It wasn’t your fault, Obi-Wan. _It wasn’t your fault_.”

Obi-Wan cries until his voice breaks.

Rael holds him for a long time.


End file.
